It's Worse to Love and Lose Then to Keep Running
by Xx-Regina-Phalange-xX
Summary: Juiet's getting married...but it isn't to Shawn. That fact is hurting him so much, he decides to leave, to start a new life like he did before he fell in love with her and started Psych; but it may be harder than he thinks...
1. Open Road

Shawn Spencer sat upon his motorcycle, clad in leather and pissed as hell. He was barely keeping the infernal machine in the lanes, veering off to one side or another every few seconds. He'd long ago silenced the angry shouts and curses of fellow interstate patrons and the honk of horns; even the police sirens that would follow him from time to time.

"Another day, another life." The four words he thought he'd never utter to himself again, let alone happily; but as those who'd know him the past seven years, he may have kept a job longer than normal, but they knew he hadn't changed in the slightest. Gus knew better though. Even as he watched his friend speed off, he knew this wasn't the Shawn he knew. He _had_ changed, just not in a way that was easily identified. He had loved, and now he'd lost, and it was killing his best friend just as much as him.

All thoughts of Santa Barbra were unceremoniously dumped into the bin at the back of Shawn's mind as of yesterday, and he had no intention of bringing them back. He just keeps speeding down the highway, off to become a new him for the 59th time in a row.


	2. Cheesecake and Spinning Bar Stools

This one is a little longer. I guess you could consider the other one a Prolouge.

~VNMVNMVNMVNMVNMV~

Midway through Colorado Shawn veered off the I-70 E and into his first rest stop along the way. Though he had no specific destination, he'd wanted to get there as fast as possible, so he'd skipped dinner, breakfast, and was almost past lunch time. His stomach was clawing at his insides, not growling but roaring for food. Shawn had finally relented, which landed him in a small diner called 'The Box.'

He smiled the smallest of smiles and dropped onto the bright red stool, twirling in it a couple times to make himself dizzy, before hearing the waitress say, "You, uh, wanna order, hon?"

He stopped and clutched the counter, his head spinning and his moth stretched in a Shawn sized grin, a type he hadn't used in so long it hurt to try and remember. "Yessurie! I'd like pineapple pancakes if you have any and a hot dog with mustard, relish, and lotsssss of ketchup!" He yipped and gave her a quick once over before saying, "Just be careful, Danny. New shoes can sometimes make you slip even on asphalt."

"How'd you know that?" She asked, amazed. He opened his mouth to answer, got out, "I'm-" and then remembered. He wasn't psychic. Not anymore. That life was gone. Bye-bye. All because of-

"You fidgeting as you're standing here, showing you're plenty uncomfortable. Plus, they have barley a scratch on them, and when you walk, you do almost stiffly." He shrugged like it was common knowledge and started to spin himself again, his mood soiled. Maybe the pineapple would keep his mind occupied.

~VNMVNMVNMVNMVNMV~

After the wonderful pineapple pancakes (he'd have to come back to this place) and the disgusting hotdog (he'd learned the hard way mustard didn't mesh with pineapple), he hopped back on his motorcycle, but in a slightly better mood. He swerved less often and less cops seemed to be on his tail. By Topeka, Kansas, he was singing random Elvis songs. He did tricks on his motorcycle that made drivers yell at him more than when he swerved, and he almost got arrested twice, but he kept going strong, the wind beating into his mouth and making his cheeks hurt.

When he stopped for the third time, this time a bathroom break, he saw it. You see, after he'd done his business, he went into a nearby gas station to grab a Snickers bar, and that's when he'd spotted the newspaper stand. He remembered he'd have to get a job wherever he was going, so looking through the classifieds was probably a good idea. He was in Springfield, Illinois at the time and the newspaper was small horribly.

In the classifieds stood out an interesting section. "The Twin Bond." It was tidbits of news and classifieds from Springfield, Ohio. He scanned over those, ready to put the paper down, when the word cheesecake caught his eye. He read through the ad twice, three times to make sure it was correct, then his shock turned into glee and he laughed heartily for the first time since she left him. It was perfect, and now he finally knew where he was going.


End file.
